for troubled minds
Lemon cookies would sound like trumpets if they could,
blaring their golden yellow sound,
proclaiming victory for all who put love before hate.
I remember your trick, where you spread a rainbow out on the table,
face down, and tell me to pick a color,
and how you dazzled me every time you did it.
Floating down the sidewalk at dusk,
defying gravity, overflowing with trust,
looking up at the trees against the sky.
Connected to the roots,
so this time becomes all the times I've done this.
Looking at a graph from the front,
the heart beats in perfect succession,
but every beat is at the same time
when you view it from a different dimension.
“Oh little flower, hello little flower,” I say to a flower.
My whole life I’ve had the sound off
and the music of the spheres turned on instead,
so I haven’t heard anything you said,
but I liked how you looked when you said it.
I think about sharp criticism and walking around
the outside of a circus tent, just taking in the atmosphere.
Recreating an experience ten, twenty years later.
This is the mirror that shows your true self.
Who are we but a wrapping of Newtons
holding onto the fig of the world?
I sat once under that tree,
engaged in perfect harmony,
and now I sit there again.
Tell me you never left.
Tell me you collected one memory to hold my essence
because you couldn’t let me go.
Tell me without speaking it.
These worlds we have inside us are silver drops and it’s always raining.
Let your nature guide you and let your laughter fill the valleys.
Even with your eyes closed, looking up feels different than looking down.
We have senses beyond senses that go beyond all pretenses!
And nursery rhymes for troubled minds who’ve lost their sense of direction.
~
2017 - 2021